Saturday, December 14th, as I prepared to embrace my newly declared routine, I thought, “I know, what I need is a cat to sooth my sore neck and and comfort my lonesome heart.” I had been thinking about getting a cat. I have spent hours talking to the indentation on the couch where Phil had spent much of his last four years. Not once did the indentation (or Phil) answer me. I imagined (I currently reside in Imagine Nation) a cat might be more conversive.
I was determined to adopt an abandoned cat. Happily (not so much for the abandoned kitties), you can now peruse available cats online while firmly implanted in your own couch indentation. I’ve always been hyper-emotional, so actually going in to a shelter was not a good idea. I knew that visiting the shelter could have the negative effect of transforming me into an eccentric cat lady (visions of Grey Gardens danced in my head) with a house full of cats. So, I opened up my laptop, went directly to Google and searched “cat adoption Albuquerque.”
In keeping with my “Night Before Christmas” theme: and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Cinnamon devoid of any reindeer. She was available, after being abandoned in a parking garage ( I can think of few places more terrifying for a cat – a parking garage being the modern equivalent of a room full of rocking chairs). She was being fostered by a local used video game store as a part of my community’s Animal Humane Association’s “Cats in the Community” program. Without bothering to change out of aged sweatpants and a stained top, I jumped into my car and drove directly to the store. In a rare lucky break, sweatpants and stained tops were the attire sported by most of the other store patrons. As I walked in the door, I was greeted by a friendly sweatpants-clad employee who asked, “Can I help you find something?” I responded “a cat.” He immediately went in search of Cinnamon. It was love at first sight on my part; Cinnamon wasn’t quite sure of me.
I spent about thirty minutes allowing Cinnamon to get to know me. Various shoppers came and went, greeting Cinnamon and ignoring me. When there was a break in the shopping traffic, I asked what I needed to do to adopt Cinnamon. The store employee got a member of the Animal Humane Association staff on the phone in order that they might interview me. I was asked questions about my home, including its current animal population, and put on hold while a background check was done. While relaying this story to my children, they were relieved to hear that I had passed the background check and been okayed for the adoption of Cinnamon (my son-in-law did ask if she used to be a stripper – I let him know that beyond her name, little was known about her past). The staff waited while I went to get the cash required for the adoption fee, as well as a cat box, litter, litter scoop, food and water dishes, food, toys and a perch/hide-away. I returned to the store, presented the cash, signed numerous documents and then headed home with Cinnamon and her accoutrements.
Cinnamon and I had a Merry Christmas and have had a dozen good nights since. And while she doesn’t seem to understand what I say, and I don’t understand her mewed responses, we continue to happily converse, our conversations accompanied by the many cinnamon-themed songs that best-friend Shari has supplied daily. She will have absolutely nothing to do with the cat perch/hide-away that I purchased, and adorned with fluffy crocheted mats. She prefers to perch on my lap or the tops of cabinets and book shelves. She sometimes sits on the Phil-indentation spot on the couch; at which time I remind Phil of how much he always enjoyed having a cat on his lap. I don’t hear a response, but I’m sure he smiles.
Life is good!